I'd Rather Sing
by LittleMagenta
Summary: Prince Herbert follows his dream to be the next American Idol. Will he make it through the auditions? Or could he end up being...the next William Hung...?
1. But Mother!

**Author's Note:** If any of this seems twisted (such as Herbert and Sir Lancelot being a pair), that's because I'm twisting Holy Grail around with its Broadway show, Spamalot (in which Herbert and Lancelot _are_ a pair…teehee. So cute). Anyway…enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter One:** _But Mother!_

The young prince stood defiantly in front of his father, his nose turned up in the air while he attempted to look brave. He fiddled with the cloth of his nightgown-like robe that failed to cover enough of his bottom half.

"Father," he squeaked in the voice of a pre-pubescent boy, "there's something I need to tell you."

His father sighed, not looking up from the papers he was mechanically sorting through. "What do you want, Alice?"

"_Herbert_!"

"Yes, yes, Herbert, whatever."

The prince nervously danced around on his feet, making his hands into fists.

"I-I've decided to follow my dream and take a journey to this new place that was discovered recently…it's called America. It seems to have flourished overnight. There's all _sorts_ of things there, father! They have something called _reality TV_! And I…I want to try out for one of these _Reality TV_'s!"

The father glanced up at his daughter, I mean son, and looked at him suspiciously.

"And what kind of _show_ might this be?"

"Why – it's a singing competition!"

The father leapt to his feet, throwing papers about. "What! No! Stop that! No singing, Alice!"

"It's _Herbert_! And I'm _going_!" He held his nose stiffly in the air. "And my dear Lancelot is coming with me!"

"Are you daft?" The father shook his head. "Never mind. Now listen, you – I accepted that you're more of a woman than a man…"

"Well yes, I _am_ the woman when Lancelot and I…"

"No, no, stop it! Let me finish! I accepted that. I also accepted that no matter how many times I try to kill you, you're going to pull through. But I will _not_ let you sing!"

Prince Herbert, about to throw a tantrum, stomped his feet loudly on the floor. "But _mother_…!"

"_Father_!"

"Father! Now _you_ listen!" Herbert began to sweat nervously. "This is m-my dream, and I won't let you r-rip it away from me!" With a huff, he stormed out of his father's office, purposely knocking things onto the floor and trying to make it look accidental. He was quite bad at it.

Once outside, he took a trip through the field, trying to calm himself by smelling the flowers. While he did this, there was a loud music swell from no where.

A window from the tower opened wide. "Stop that music!"

Herbert, in a childish fit of despair, flung himself into the flowers, sobbing quietly.

"_Oh_, my evil mother…father! He never lets me do _anything_ I want! But…no, not this time! I'm going to do it! I, Alice…_Herbert_! I, Herbert, am going to be the next American Idol!"


	2. New Jersey

**Chapter Two:** _**New Jersey**_

After releasing Lancelot from the British jail (or rather, helping him escape), Herbert and his husband happily ran off and frisked around before making their plans to get to America. As Lancelot decided it, they hopped onto a ship while Prince Herbert tried to decide what song to sing for his American Idol audition. The days went by, and as they got closer and closer to America, Herbert was still nowhere near prepared. His odd-looking robe was dirtied (they decided, for some reason, to stow away, even though Herbert, being a prince, probably could have snagged them a less-grimy room). After a while, they began to run out of food as well.

"Dear Lancelot, we're out of _lembas bread_!"

"Out of _what_, you say?"

"…Wot?"

At night when Herbert fell asleep, Lancelot would watch him and wonder…why the _hell_ the arrow had to hit Concorde instead of going somewhere else. If only that had happened, he wouldn't have had to deal with all that "coming out of the closet" business. And how had Herbert known he was wearing a skin-tight sequined shirt underneath his armor, eh?

Other times he wouldn't watch Herbert sleeping at all and would stand up and do the Macarena. He quite enjoyed that.

Finally, after weeks of traveling, the ship arrived in the newly discovered America, at a port in somewhere called "New Jersey". Herbert and Lancelot carefully snuck off the ship and onto the dock when no one was looking. It was there he noticed how filthy he had become.

"Oh, Lancelot! Look at me! I look like I've been shat on by a thousand gulls!"

"Well, we were staying underneath the beams the birds would sit on…"

"And Lancelot, look at you! Your armor's become rusted. You must take it off!"

Lancelot's heartbeat quickened with panic as he thought of the clothes hidden underneath the armor. "No, no, I think I'll keep it on for now!"

"Well then, we _must_ find new clothes! Come, my brave once-savior!" With that, Herbert latched onto Lancelot's arm and dragged him through the crowd. After they had gotten through the largest swell, they found the area mostly filled with people smoking or rolling around on the ground laughing for no good reason.

"Hey, check it out!"

Herbert, having an odd feeling he was being called on, stopped in his tracks and turned around to see two young men were following him. One was tall and thin, while the other one was a bit shorter, and a little round in the middle. It was the taller boy, who had long blonde hair, who had called out to Herbert.

"Yo, man," the blonde-haired boy continued, "you're lookin' pretty dirty over there. That's an interesting…nightgown you got on." He threw a cigarette he had been smoking to the ground and crushed it with his foot, and then said out of nowhere, "Hey, you guys queer or something?"

Herbert and Lancelot stared back blankly.

"Listen," the blonde man said, putting an arm over Herbert's shoulders, "It's also obvious you're new here. And I, being the great person I am, have decided to take you where you want to go."

"That's very nice," Herbert said slowly, "but…who _are_ you?"

The blonde burst into laughter. "Shit, man, you sound like a chick!"

Herbert held his nose in the air and sniffed, offended. "I do _not_!"

"Don't sweat it, man, you're all right in my book. By the way, I'm Jay, and this lard-ass over here – that's Silent Bob."

"And you intend to help us?" Lancelot said suspiciously.

"Shit, man, why not? First off, you queers _obviously_ need some new threads."

"New…threads?"

Herbert and Lancelot, dazed and confused, were eventually coaxed into letting these Jay and Silent Bob people lead them. New Jersey was a lot different from England. There were roads all around, weird-shaped buildings, and shit and dead people didn't clutter the streets. Instead, lively-looking people walked up and down them, speaking a language Herbert almost couldn't recognize that included the words "hip", "bitchin'", and other such expressions. Also, the clothes…the clothes were remarkably different.

"All right queers, here we are."

Jay had stopped in front of a store called _"Hip Clothes for Losers"_. He smiled widely, holding the door open for Herbert and his companion. The two hesitantly stepped inside, followed by Jay and his silent partner. Jay made an odd motion to the man at the cash register that seemed to say "hello bitch, haven't seen you in a while, what the hell's up?" In return, the man smiled, left the cash register, and approached the four.

"Hey Jay. Silent Bob." He nodded. "So what's up with these two guys?"

"Found 'em hangin' around the harbor. They're not from around here. And they're in some _serious_ need of help, man. So what'ya got?"

The man looked over Herbert and Lancelot for a few seconds, dramatically holding his chin with his thumb and forefinger.

"I've got it!"

Next thing they knew, the Prince and his lover were being harshly pushed to the back of the store and into separate dressing rooms. Subsequently, clothes were thrown over the door and onto their heads. An hour or so was spent like this. By the end, Herbert and Lancelot had tried on over twenty different outfits. Jay, Silent Bob, or the cashier-man dismissed each one. But finally, they all seemed to agree on one single outfit for each of them – Lancelot in ridiculously baggy cargo pants and a tight, plain black muscle shirt. Lancelot was happy with the muscle shirt, though he refused to admit it, but not so much with the cargo pants. He figured, though, the three American natives must know better than him.

Lancelot's jaw almost dropped to the floor when Prince Herbert exited his dressing room in the final outfit. His pants were practically falling off of his arse, but you couldn't really tell because of the long, blue t-shirt he was wearing. His shoes seemed to be over five sizes too big, and a heavy silver necklace that looked like it was pulling him to the ground was wrapped around his neck.

Jay smiled smugly, proud of himself. "That's right, bitch. Do I know how to pick it or what?"

Herbert tugged at his clothes, quite unsure of himself. "Well…I guess so."

"All right then! My work here is done!" Jay slapped Herbert on the back one last time, causing Herbert to sharply take in a breath of air. "You two are ready to go. Good luck."

"Thank you, good sir!" Lancelot said politely. And together, the Prince and his queen-wanna-be husband left the store.

Jay shook his head and elbowed his silent friend. "Shit man, those two were fuckin' weird."


End file.
